Second chances
by Whitegamma97
Summary: Even though she's only three years old, Sophie's life isn't easy. The only one who seems to be there for her is Anouk. But is Anouk someone you'd want to care for you. Meanwhile: the Cullens are getting less and less happy about the outcome of the almost- fight with the Volturi. The line between the vampire and the human world becomes thinner and thinner...
1. Chapter 1

**AN. So this is the prologue of my first story on this website. It also happens to be the first story I'm writing in English. I am sure it would be no surprise for anyone that I'm asking you to not be to harsh in your comments. But I find something else even more important to ask. Please, don't be to nice! One of the greatest purposes in life is to learn from your mistakes. I don't learn anything I nobody explains them to me. The third thing I've to say is no surprise, either. I don't own Twilight, only my own characters. Enjoy the story and feel free to leave a review. If you, by accident, happen to like it: my special thanks goes to MaverickPaxAPunch, who teaches me new English words, such as neat, and encourages me to write.**

She closed the door with shaking, elegant hands. Now, we were surrounded by pure dark, yet, I could see with total perfectness. Her wide, haunted eyes were the scariest thing I'd ever seen in my short life.

"We are going to die," I stated, there was no desperation in my voice, no pain, no fear. I didn't care anymore, I was ice.

"No," she lied. She bowed down, so she was on the same level as me. Her eyes were still wide and haunted, but also determined.

"You are scared," I said, I wasn't planning on going down like this. I wanted to die in all my dignity. If I could get her at my side, that is. I wouldn't leave her to herself in this dark, abandoned barn in the middle of a forest. I owed her everything. I could only give her my companionship. Something she shouldn't be happy with, at all. But she was.

"No!" she replied, but her voice sounded off, like human teenager telling the police that she didn't do it. She wasn't involved in anything. It was the sound people get to they're voice when they try to convince their innocence when there is none. I knew the sound.

"Yes," I said. "They will find us here, and we will die. And you are very, very afraid."

Suddenly, she grabbed both my hands, holding them in her firm, icy grip. I gasped, then relaxed. Her thumps moved slightly over the upside of my hands, it had the feeling of trust and love. I would never have time to become used to that.

"Sophie, I… I… You must know that I've always wanted to protect you! Please, please say you know. You deserved so much more than this. You deserved life and I, I was arrogant and… I love you, please don't forget." She didn't cry, she couldn't, but the dry sobs coming from deep sorrow and pain were the closed she could get.

My words were simple, yet, I thought they were completely right. She'd been strong for me for so long. I could cry and scream and tremble with fear. I could slap her in her face for doing this to me. But in the end, that wasn't how I wanted it to end, either.

"I know," I said. My eyes saying all the thing I couldn't speak out loud.

It felt like a goodbye


	2. Chapter one: welkom in de hel

It was already in the afternoon when she walked down the stairs. Her eyes were tear- stained and a little milky, she didn't smile at me. She never did anymore. "Mommy!" I exclaimed. I ran straight to her, almost pushing down our small television as I did.

"Is the house on fire? Don't you scream at me like that!" Momma said in her mad- voice. There were only three tunes I ever heard her use; mad, sad and outrageous. There used to be a fourth one. She had used it every time she had talked or about him. Happiness, adoration, with a hint of something foreign to me.

I'd asked him once. I'd asked him what it was. I remembered that day really well. He had been sitting at his desk, which was gone now. Where it had been, in the left corner in our small living room, was an empty spot. I could still see the lines where it had damaged the carpet. So he was sitting there, working at something I was too young to understand. He had looked very worried, though. Yes, I could really remember his worried features.

"Daddy," I had said to him. I was a little scared that he'd get mad at me for interrupting his never- ending worrying.

"What is it, Sophie, I'm busy right now," he replied. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves a little. After all, I had only been two at the time, I was almost four now! I spit the question out, because I did not know how long I'd have his attention.

"What is that look in her eyes mommy always gets whenever she looks at you?" He looked up, and for the first time, I saw him smile. It immediately lightened his face. He looked way better this way; I wished he would smile more.

"Love, Sophie," he spoke. "Just simple love." I nodded, feeling a little dumb for asking such an obvious question. Of course it was love!

* * *

Today, I still cannot believe that I had to ask that. It was now more obvious than ever. I looked down, ashamed. She had told me not to talk too loud, before. Why couldn't I remember that?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my head pointed at the floor.

"I'm sorry?!" she repeated me in her outrageous voice. I cringed, but didn't reply. I gasped in fear as her hand reached out and grasped my chin, pulling my face up in a sudden move that hurt my neck.

"Look at me as I speak!" she screamed in my face. I could now smell the alcohol. She had been drinking, again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. The tears were already starting to drip down my cheeks. The warm, salty water felt familiar on my skin. I knew what would come, next.

"I'm sorry, that's all you can say, isn't it." She hit me in my face, so sudden I screamed louder than I should. Her eyes were insane, filled with hated. Her whole face turned red. "Didn't I teach you any other words, little moron." This time, she used her fist. I felt my jaw protesting as the knuckles of her hand contacted my skin.

"I'm sor… I didn't mean to," I cried.

"What am I to you, am I of any importance?" she pushed me with my back against the whole, causing my whole body to protest. I signed, shaking, but knowing that she wouldn't stop. I closed my eyes as she tortured me.

This attack seemed to be longer than usual, however, it probably wasn't.

"Sophie?" I heard someone call. "Sophie, are you there?" My heart started beating faster, I knew that voice.

"Here," I managed to whisper before momma broke my nose with a hard blow. I squeaked in pain. My nose started to bleed. I didn't have a clue as to how she had heard my desperate whisper for help, but she had. Less than a second later she stood in our little hallway, the look in her eyes matched my momma's; angry till know expand. Her pitch- black hair was tied up in a ponytail, her blue dress was simple but elegant, and her fiery red eyes seemed to spit fire.

"What. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing, Ira." She spoke very slowly, probably in an attempt to conceal her anger. momma turned around, facing her now instead of me. "Sophie was being rude, you mind your own business!" she hissed at Anouk.

"She is my business," Anouk said. Her voice was almost a growl. "Now, let her go!"

Momma looked like she was about to exploded. Her face turning even redder than it already was. But I knew from earlier experiences that Anouk could be pretty scary when she was mad. Especially when momma would hurt me. Momma let go of my small shoulders. My legs tottered and I felt as if I would fall down, but Anouk was there just in time to catch my shaking body. It took her no afford at all to lift me of the ground and take me in her long, white arms. I grasped a handful of her shirt and hold on to that, closely. Momma opened her eyes, clearly wanting to yell at me or Anouk or the both of us, but Anouk wasn't about to let her speak.

"Don't…" she lifted a warning finger. "You say a word. A word and I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you!" a shiver went down my spine. She sounded very, very serious. Who did she mean by 'all of you?' Momma turned white, she seemed to become sober in less than a second. Anouk, however, didn't even look at her as she stamped out of the door. Taking me with her.

I buried my face in her dress and cried, relieved that it was over. She didn't say a word, but her hand slowly tripled up and down my hair, stroking it carefully. I could tell that she was still very, very mad at the way she was walking. A little faster than I'd like. She held me very close to her chest. I had tried to find a heartbeat in there many times, but never felt one. I hadn't asked her for it. Scared that I might upset her. "I want to kill her," she whispered. "So badly." I knew she didn't think I would hear that, so I didn't reply. I didn't feel comfortable with her saying things like that, though. It scared me, she sounded so serious.


	3. Chapter two: misselijk

**so, I'm very sorry that it took this long for me to post another chapter. I've been buzy writing chapters for all different kinds of stories. I really like the idea for this story and I really don't want to mess it up. Fun fact: I love reading reviews!**

"This cannot go on like this any longer, Sophie." Anouk said. She put me down on her kitchen table.

I took a deep breath and tried desperately to stop crying. I knew that I'd start all over again as I looked her in the eyes for even a second, so I pointed my head at the wall.

Anouk's house was small, but very pretty. She did not have a garden, just a small field next to the drive, where only grass was growing.

If you came inside, through her front door, because it was the only door leading outside she had, you'd enter the living room, straight away. She did not have a hallway, neither did she need one. The living room was very small; a couch, a TV, a huge shelf filled with books and the very table I was sitting on right now. A small fridge, an oven, a stove with one wick, a microwave and cabinet with everything you need to cook, that was everything Anouk had in the kitchen. There were four door in her living room. One for every wall.

The first one led you back outside, the second one to a small bathroom with a shower and a toilet. The third door was her bedroom door, I'd been inside, once. Anouk had a small bed with had been perfectly made and a closet for her clothes. The last door was always locket. Anouk had explained to me that it was very private and she did not want me to go inside. I had nodded and told her I wouldn't, but it didn't stop me from being very curious. Everything in Anouk's house was plain white, except for the stove, the microwave, the oven, her bed, the couch and the TV. And her bed and couch were still really light coloured, a stunning mocha kind of colour. One time, I had asked her why. She had laughed and told me it was because white gave people hope. I did not quite understand it when she said things like that, but I found her house very pretty. Especially if you compared it with my own house. Which was dirty and smelled bad, momma did not like cleaning. I did not know how to clean.

"Hey," Anouk whispered. She was calm again, finally. Her right hand softly stroke my brown, thin hair behind my ears.

I noticed my cheeks were wet, again. I was crying.

"shh, shh, Sophie. You are okay. You are fine. I will never hurt you."

"Please, please don't make me go back. I don't want to go back, Anouk. I can't!" I was begging her, like I always begged her.

She frowned, getting the same, troubled expression as always. "I have to," she whispered.

"WHY!" I shouted. "WHY, WHY, WHY!" I did not understand. She was so nice to me. She was the only one who was nice to me. And she kept sending me back, even though she knew really well what momma would do. Didn't she care? Was I so bad that I deserved the pain?

"Why," I whispered.

"God, Sophie. I can… I cannot tell you! I… I… Just…" She didn't know how to form a sentence, which was a very, very bad sign. It wasn't often that she got so upset. Her eyes held all the emotions I was feeling, too. The same fear, the same anger, the same pain. I was all visible in her strange red eyes. I cried more, too upset to stop. She laid her arms around me, shaking me softly against her chest. The cold seemed to be coming from her arms, like snow. It feet so safe. "Okay," said Anouk, after what seemed like a second and a century at the same time.

Carefully, let go of my body and took my hands in hers. It scared me when she took my hands like that. Like she wanted me to be fragile, so she could freely hurt me as much as she wanted.

"Let go!" I cried, pulling my hands back. She could've hold on if she had wanted to, but she let go, immediately.

"I am sorry," she said, her eyes now full of worries. I did not reply, I did not know what to say. "Let's have a look at you," she said, after a short but highly uncomfortable silence. I nodded. We'd been through this so many times that I now knew exactly what to do.

I took my shoes, shirt and trousers of and revealed my bruised body. I think I heard her sigh, but it was such a soft sound it probable was the wind.

"Very good," she whispered. "Are you hurting, anywhere?"

I nodded. "My nose a little bit. And my leg, err…" I never knew which one was left and which one right. "This one," I pointed at the spot which hurt.

"Your right leg," she said, a small smile was visible on her lips.

"She kicked me so hard." She needed to know that, maybe then she would let me live here. But Anouk didn't even look at me. She was preparing her first aid kid, she used it only for me. It was then that I noticed the large bloodstain on her dress, on the same spot she had held me just minutes before.

"Is there blood on my face?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I think your nose is broken. Do not worry, my dear Sophie. I will clean it up." I flinched when she touched my hurting nose with a soft, wet cloth. She did her best not to show me. But her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes seemed to get a little bit darker.

"Does it make you nauseous?" I asked, worried. She looked up, confused.

"What do you mean, darling?" I pointed at the, now dirty, cloth she was holding as far away from her body as possible.

"The blood, do you get nauseous?"

"Oh," she tried to laugh. "No, it does not. I just do not feel very… comfortable around it." I frowned.

"Why?"

"Well, because… it just does."

"So you do get nauseous!" She was probably just too ashamed to tell me.

"No, no it really does not," she denied.

"But it upsets you."

"Well, yes, a little." She admitted.

"Its okay, many people get really nauseous. I know it does smell a little bit funny…"

"ENOUGH!" she screamed. I saw that her eyes were closed and here whole body was shaking. Her hands were clenched into tight fists.

"Anouk?" I almost started crying again. I had never seen her like this.

She recoiled. "I thought I could do this," she muttered.

"Do what?"

she didn't answer my obvious question. She just shook her head a few times. I did not understand why. "No…nothing. I am just a little bit nauseous. I am sorry a yelled at you, dear Sophie. I did not mean to."

"I told you!" I exclaimed. Happy that I had been right. She nodded.

"Yes, you were right, it does upset me."


End file.
